


the truth runs wild (like the rain to the sea)

by transoberyn



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Meet-Cute, Multi, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transoberyn/pseuds/transoberyn
Summary: Ronan has a crush on one of the owners of the new tattoo parlor across the street. Gansey is ready and willing to play matchmaker. Henry's just here for a good time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the raven cycle doesn't have nearly enough of that sweet sweet flower shop/tattoo parlor content so i decided to generate some of my own. title from "heaven" by troye sivan (as if i needed to make this fic even gayer lmao). adam is the trans character, although it won't play too much of a role in the story. lmk if i goofed up the grammar/spelling anywhere.  
> (EDIT: chaboi 4got about the masturbation jokes and didn't account for them while choosing the rating sorry folks)

Ronan squinted suspiciously through a display case of ferns at the new tattoo parlor across the street. 

“Have our new neighbors done something to necessitate your ire already, Ronan?” Gansey asked from where he was carefully arranging a new shipment of lavender plants on a shelf. 

“No,” Ronan replied shortly. Gansey looked up to see his gaze sharpen even more, then glanced out the window just in time to observe a man with dust-colored hair bending over to pick a box off of the ground.

“Ah,” Gansey said, his normally unassuming smile turning knowing. “Sometimes I forget that the majority of your emotions manifest as anger.”

Ronan flipped him off, his eyes not leaving the strip of tan skin exposed between the hem of the man’s white tee shirt and his stained jeans.

“Fuck off, Dick. At least I don’t jack it to a book of pressed flowers every night.”

“I would never; one mistake could ruin a decade’s worth of hard work,” Gansey replied calmly, unfazed by Ronan’s apparent displeasure. “And besides,  _ I’m _ not the one who’s going to be masturbating tonight.”

As if summoned, Henry popped his head out of the back room.

“Who’s masturbating?”

“Ronan has become enamored with one of the owners of the new tattoo parlor across the street,” Gansey explained, gesturing to the window. 

Henry sidled up next to Ronan and, upon seeing the man across the street (who was now chugging a water bottle), wolf-whistled. 

“You, my man, have excellent taste. And I,” he leaned forward with a somewhat menacing smirk, “am going to help you get your man. You’re welcome in advance.”

Ronan shot him a look that could have withered every plant in the store.

“If you even think about approaching him, I will have Chainsaw shit on your entire wardrobe.”

“I’m just trying to help you out here! There’s no need to get defensive about it. I have it on good authority that I’m very good at romancing people, and what better use for my skills than helping my dear friend get it on with a hot tattoo artist?”

“Your definition of ‘help’ is a lot different than mine. Remember that time you tried to ‘help’ me fix the BMW?”

“Psh, you would have had to replace those gears eventually anyway.”

“What about when you ‘helped’ Dick bake Opal a birthday cake? Were we going to have to replace the entire kitchen anyway?”

“...Point taken. But still, as your friend, I just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wait a fucking second… speaking of friends, where the hell is Dick?”

Ronan whipped around to face the window again, only to watch in horror as Gansey struck up a conversation with the man across the street. Biting out several words that Henry would not have repeated in front of his mother, Ronan kicked the door open and stormed across the street. Henry suddenly wished he had popcorn.

Ronan almost got hit by several cars on his way across the street, but the sheer power of his fury appeared to keep them at bay. Henry thought that if they actually had made contact with him, they would have been the ones to go flying.

Ronan, having made it across the street unscathed, clapped a not-so-friendly hand on Gansey’s shoulder. 

“Dick, Henry wants you back at the shop,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, I’m sure that if he needed me that much he could have come out and told me himself,” Gansey replied calmly, his old-money Virginian accent doubling in its intensity. “Ronan, this is Adam. He’s one of the co-owners of Page of Cups, and he’s also one of the tattoo artists. Adam, this is Ronan. He helped me get The Sleeping Daffodil up and running when I first had the idea to start up a flower shop.”

Ronan was certain he saw a flash of fear in Adam’s eyes before he appeared to steel himself and hold out a hand to shake. 

“Adam Parrish. Nice to meet you.”

Ronan swore internally. Of fucking course he had to have a cute accent to go along with a cute face and cute- Ronan glanced down at the tanned, callused hand that was extended in his direction. Shit. Praying that his hands weren’t sweaty, Ronan shook Adam’s hand. He was careful to  _ not  _ memorize the way Adam’s skin felt as it brushed against his own, and he  _ definitely  _ didn’t think about holding his hand in any other situation. Ever.

“Ronan Lynch. Sorry about Dick here, he’s always sticking his nose in other people’s business.”

“It’s really no problem. Heck, I was halfway expecting to be told off for corrupting the neighborhood with a tattoo parlor when I saw him coming over here.”

Ronan turned to Gansey.

“What have I fucking told you about looking like you’re about to ask someone if they’ve heard about Jesus Christ our lord and savior every goddamn time you approach a stranger? I’m the more religious one out of the two of us anyway.”

“It’s probably the polo shirts,” Gansey surmised, looking thoughtful.

“I think it’s probably more the haircut that makes you look like you just escaped a boy choir.”

“It was the sock tan lines that I was worried about, personally,” Adam chimed in, gesturing at Gansey’s ankles.

Ronan cackled.

“Henry’s been trying to convince him to stop wearing cargo shorts for years, but it’s never worked,” he told Adam conspiratorially. “Once he burned them all in our apartment’s fireplace. Not only did the apartment smell like shit for the next week, but Dick somehow managed to acquire an exact replica of his entire wardrobe overnight.”

Adam looked bemused.

“One would think that being a florist wouldn’t pay nearly well enough to finance buying an entirely new wardrobe because your roommate just burnt your old one.”

“Richard Campbell Gansey III here’s old money,” Ronan explained with a sneer. “And besides that, he managed to charge the whole thing to Henry’s credit card.”

“Ah,” Adam said with half the knowingness and twice the carefully concealed venom contained within Gansey’s identical statement earlier. “I see. Well, it’s been nice meeting y’all, but I have to finish helping Blue and Noah unpack.”

He offered a half smile and a wave, then disappeared into the storefront. Once he was gone, Ronan leveled Gansey with a Look(™).

“If you ever try that shit again, I swear to fuck-”

“I know, I know. But it didn’t go that badly, did it?”

“It didn’t go that badly?! He probably thinks we’re rich assholes and never wants to talk to us again!”

“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?” Gansey asked, looking amused. “Besides, I think you sounded appropriately disgusted enough by my wealth that he probably doesn’t hate you, at the very least.”

“Wow, he probably doesn’t hate me. Do you think he’ll want a June wedding?” 

Gansey chuckled as he crossed the street.    
“At least you won’t have to worry about where to get your floral arrangements.”

**Author's Note:**

> so the daffodil is the national flower of wales so i just kinda took that and glendower snoozing and mashed em together. and blue = the page of cups so that's where that name came from.


End file.
